


Sic transit

by Melanie_D_Peony



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Bickering, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Guess it's a bit of crack?, Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), Love Confessions, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Not a songfic I don't think, One Shot, Something light hearted, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-09-26 06:41:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20385325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melanie_D_Peony/pseuds/Melanie_D_Peony
Summary: When the Bentley starts playing romantic music in Aziraphale's presence, a certain immortal being has to do some soul searching if he wants to get to the bottom of the strange phenomenon.





	Sic transit

**Author's Note:**

> I ripped the opening line off of tumblr user teamfreewillcannotbekilled.
> 
> This is a work of fan fiction. The author does not own any of these characters.

Crowley's car had only one rule. Bentley picks the music, driver shuts his snakehole.

Mind, it wasn't Crowley's rule per se. The demon followed no rules. As a rule.

No, it was a rule imposed on all passengers and the Bentley was its sole instigator. And the Bentley would invariably choose one type of music.

Crowley tried to fight it. Course, he was in favour of disobedience. But in the general terms. The car's tendency to turn any discs left in the glove compartment longer than two weeks into _The Best of Queen _was a specific disobedience he simply had to come down on heavily. The Bentley had been resisting him fiercely. This battle of wills resulted in a dozen or so CD's varying from a Tchaikovsky album, called _The Best of Queen _through the Velvet Underground's collection of singles, christened The_ Best of_ _Queen, _all the way to William Byrd's famous _The Best of Queen_. 

The demon did not give up as much as lost interest in the matter after a while. He was also quite partial to '_I Want to Break Free' _ and could have listened to it on a loop for an eternity.

So the civil disobedience continued. But it did not put strain on the demon's relationship with the Bentley. 

He was especially glad to have his car back, to be able to speed with 90 miles in Central London, putting every traffic light out of sync from Mayfair to Soho (causing a stop wave in his wake), as he nearly lost the Bentley during the traumatic Tadfield events. He felt that their shared near death experience brought them closer together.

That is, until they parked in front of the bookshop to pick Aziraphale up. Crowley leaned on the horn for a solid minute until a very flustered bookshop owner appeared.

'Get in, angel.' He shouted, half of his body reclining out of the window. 'What took you so long?'

'I struggled to pick an outfit. What do you think?'

Truthfully, he thought it looked exactly like his usual one. Not to say that it wasn't lovely in its own, prim and proper way. But he struggled to find a detail to compliment as having worth abandoning the beaten path for. There was a moment of silence only broken by Freddie Mercury's plees to have somebody to love.

'I think that you shouldn't get too fond of it because they will smell like Shadwell's cigarettes forever.' Crowley successfully found someone to bane the mount of guilt on. 'I don't understand why do you have to visit them every bleeding Sunday. You possessed that woman once! Does that mean that you'll have to schmooze with her for an eternity to be absolved from guilt?' 

'Well, not for an eternity.' Aziraphale pointed out, a tad morbidly. 'Besides, don't pretend that you don't enjoy our visits. I keep getting these flashes of love as we drive.'

'One would only fail to sense love if chose not to, with this crap over the radio.' Crowley grumbled. He was less fond of the romantic singles. 'You are oversensitive.'

'I can't be _ over _sensitive.' Aziraphale protested as the demon turned to skip the song. 'I am definitely picking up a cherished feel. And you needn't have to come if you didn't want to.'

'What, and I am supposed to let you meet that crazy sod Shadwell alone?' Crowley asked fiercely as he triumphantly forwarded the disk. 'Not gonna happen.' 

He nearly drove the Bentley into the opposite lane as the _ Unchained Melody _ by The Righteous Brothers came on, screaming on the radio.

_ Oh, my love, my darling I've hungered for your touch... _

'Weird.' Commented Crowley, with a strange rasping in his throat as he steered the car back.

_ '_This is not your usual bebop, is it?' Aziraphale shifted on his seat, suddenly keen on gazing at the world outside the window.

'Angel, for the last time…' Crowley began, searching among the stations for something bearable to listen to.

_ On the day that you were born the angels got together And decided to create a dream come true _crooned Karen Carpenter, taking over where Bill Medley left off.

'...nobody in the 21st century….' Crowley kept turning the rotary with increasing desperation.

_ My heart is thrilled by the still of your hand, It's how I know now that you understand _ the melody filled the sedan to the brim.

'...in the right state of mind…' 

_ There's no plan, there's no race to be run, The harder the rain, honey, the sweeter the sun _ the speakers assured them. Aziraphale was lulled to thinking about the first ever rain. 'It's definitely a great sense of love.' He muttered to himself.

'...would use the word "bebop".'

_ There's no plan, there's no kingdom to come, I'll be your man if you got love to get done _the song persisted. Aziraphale wondered if the demon remembered it too, the first storm, the shred of innocence in the way he moved in his space for shelter. He glanced over to see the preoccupied frown on Crowley's brow and stifled his smile that spread on his face, almost against his will. 

'What the everloving fuck…' Crowley mumbled and stopped watching the road altogether. The Bentley steadily glided towards the pavement.

'Allow me!' Screamed Aziraphale and he reached for the rotary to change to yet another channel. But as soon as he touched the switch a band called _ Yello _ came on the air with their most notable song '_Oh, yeah'. _

Crowley repeatedly smacked the Off button, but failed to silence the car. He only achieved to put a different ballad on.

'Perhaps it is time you took your car to a mechanic.' Muttered the angel, visibly shaken.

'This car has been running on a single fill of petrol in the last twenty years. Whatever is happening to it, it's beyond the competence of an ordinary mechanic. Also, we designed them in a way that they never finish what they were expected to do, but charge you for work you never asked for in the first place.'

'Ah, I should have known that repairmen were one of yours. See this is what I'm talking about, when I point out, that the inherent sinfulness will rebound upon its instigator.'

'Are you just going to sit there and sermonize or have you any constructive ideas?'

'Well, the Pulsifers are coming today, so maybe you should ask Newt to take a look at your radio. Anathema says that he likes to tinker with technology.'

'I said constructive.' Crowley rolled his eyes. 'I'll let that buffoon anywhere near the Bentley when Hell freezes over. Anyway, it's my car, I know how to deal with it. The key is to assert dominance, like you would with begonias.'

He took a deep breath then began to talk calmly to the dashboard in a low voice that was somehow still chock full of threat.

'I simply have to explain that I do not tolerate this kind of behaviour. That I shall consider this vehicle a useless piece of machinery, ready to be towed to a scrapyard by the end of the day, unless it stops this nonsense and plays some Queen like the good little car it is.'

The Bentley indeed switched to Queen. To their adaption of '_Crazy little thing called love _'.

'Assert dominance, you were saying?' Aziraphale remarked fondly with only the smallest hint of smugness. Subtly, he used a little miracle on Crowley. _ You will now relax and think about whatever you like the best. _

'Oh, do shut up.' Said the demon. His anger seemed to have dissipated, the tension escaped his shoulders as he cracked his neck. He eased his white-knuckled clutch on the wheel, steering gently with the flat of his hands. He flashed a small smile at Aziraphale, but turned back to the road looking just as troubled as before as a brand new love song chose just that moment to pipe up. 

They drove on in silence. The background music did not ease them. They journey seemed longer than usual, as somehow, they got red at every single traffic light. 

*

The Tracey - Shadwell household poured to the street before they had a chance to even get out of the car. This wasn't the least bit surprising as they were pushing a wall of noise ahead of them, consisting mainly the wails of either Celine Dion or Enya. 

'That's quite an entrance you made, my darlings.' Madam Tracey commented as she gave both of them a bone crunching squeeze.

'Crowley is having problems with his radio.' The angel explained. 'We wanted to ask Mr. Pulsifer to take a look at it.'

'No we bloody didn't.' Inserted Crowley as he stepped to Mr. Shadwell to shakes his hand. 

Witchfinder Sergeant Shadwell, who considered himself an Expert on Everything Evil, Occult and Demonic, slowly took a liking to Crowley. These days he thought that his first impression of the "Southern bastard" was misguided and ironically, imagined him to be more trustworthy than the other Southerner. This deep seated sympathy may have been a result of their similarities. After all Crowley also considered himself an Expert on Everything Evil, Occult and Demonic. Just from a different perspective. 

'Oh, young Newt will be a tad late anyway, I'm afraid.' Madam Tracey chirped.

Shadwell, in the meantime began to circle the Bentley, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

'Ach, that's proper phenomena.' He concluded, sucking on his teeth.

'Why it might be that something simply short circuited.' Aziraphale said thoughtfully.

'Nah. If we are strong in the fight against witchery we can't afford to be sidetracked by this style o' things.' Shadwell growled, dismissing the concept of radio technology altogether.

'Care to see if you can find anything?' Crowley asked the five foot nothing of a walking, talking pile of inhaled tar and condensed milk.

Shadwell happily obliged.

'Aye. Aye. I'll get onto it right awa'.'

Now Shadwell believed that a great many things were Inherently Evil. Chip and pin machines, the concept of Kentucky, toaster ovens, horses, regular bathing, the years 1678, 1855 and the entire month of February 1995, scratchy lottery, Tuesdays, hurdy gurdies and ties. His exhaustive list wasn't entirely accurate though. Toaster ovens were at least partially Heaven's fault. But as cars were definitely high on his itinerary of evil, he made his evaluation well before he began prodding and poking with his witchfindig needle.

'It's a witch.' He concluded after what he judged to be a sufficient amount of finding. 'Torch it.' 

'What on earth are you suggesting Mr Shadwell!' Madam Tracy cried out.

'Maybe it is possessed somehow, but that would be a bit of an overreaction.' Aziraphale hurried to suggest while Shadwell shook his lighter aggressively in Crowley's face. 

'Don' be a wuss lad.'

Crowley weighed his options. He laid his cheek on the hood of the Bentley and rapped his knuckles on it sharply, twice. 

'Hastur?' He asked. When there was no answer he straightened up and shook his head. _ Not possessed then. _

'Between you and me, if think that your car is bewitched maybe you should ask a genuine witch to take a look at it.' Anathema addressed them, appearing behind her huge pregnant belly. 'Well, occultist to be precise.'

Both divine creatures jumped to greet her. Anathema got on with the angel like a house on fire because they shared a bond akin to the one people around the world with weird spouses have.

'We thought you were coming later.' Said Aziraphale, pressing his cheek to hers, precariously bending over her bump. 

'Newt is. He is on his way with Dick Turpin. I took a train. I couldn't fit this' she patted her belly.' in the Wasabi since the third trimester. He finally agreed to get a more sensible car on the condition that he can bequest the chariot of orient to Madam Tracey.'

'Quite a step up from my little scooter.' Boasted the clairvoyant.

Crowley struggled to repress a condescending snigger. 

'Book girl.' He greeted the witch, giving a quick kiss on Anathema's cheek, then turned his attention to her belly, smoothing his palm over its sizeable dome.

'Not much longer to go.' She smiled then looked at the car. 'Now what seems to be the problem?'

Crowley briefly explained the Bentley's symptoms while she contemplated its aura. After some thoughtful consideration, she said, humming.

'Well. It's there all right. It's been there for a while, deep down. It's huge and fierce.' Anathema began.

They all leaned closer as one.

'It's a witch, aye?' Shadwell was practically bouncing with excitement.

'No. It's the Bentley. It's in love.'

'Coo-eee. With who?' Madam Tracey demanded to know. 

'Did it start this morning?' She asked Crowley.

'The radio was fine until I got to the bookshop.' The demon reaffirmed.

'Thought so.' Anathema nodded firmly.

'So? Who is it then?' Huffed Shadwell, coming around to this new theory quickly.

'Aziraphale, obviously.' Anathema announced. 

'Me? But this is Crowley's car.' Objected the dumbstruck Aziraphale. 

Now, Anathema Device - Pulsifer had dark hair, a not so much atrocious as anachronistic way of spelling and the ability to express, with the mere lift on an eyebrow, the phrase "my point exactly". 

'That's insane. Cars can't be in love.' Protested Crowley.

'It does sound highly improbable.' Agreed Aziraphale. 'But I did feel flashes of love in there.'

'This is all your fault! You and that angelic nature of yours.' Crowley snapped at the angel.

'Now, now love!' Tutted Madam Tracey.

'I am having a moment, Madam Tracey.' Crowley lifted a hand to his throbbing temple.

'What did I do?' Aziraphale dithered.

'Ruined a perfectly good Bentley, that's what.' The demon huffed, deflated. 

'I think we could all do with nice cup of tea.' Madam Tracey interrupted his venting. 'I am sure you'll know what to do about the Bentley after we got us a nice bit of liver, gentlemen.' She extended a hand towards Anathema. 'Come, love.'

Madam Tracey hooked her arm around Crowley's elbow. She ushered her small congregation inside. 

The Bentley continued to serenade them through their dinner.

*

When it was time to leave they walked awkwardly to the car. The bass of the current love song greeted them, muffled by the closed windows. When Crowley opened the door for the angel, the noise came rolling out like fumes filling the cabin. Aziraphale placed his frame stiffly on his seat while Crowley went around and sat behind the steering wheel.

_ Babe, there's something lonesome about you, Something so, wholesome about you, Get closer to me, _urged the sweet voice over the radio. Crowley pushed his glasses on his forehead, then rubbed his eyes with the flat of his palms. Discomfort was oozing from him. 

'Whatever will you do about the Bentley?' Aziraphale asked softly, apologetically.

'I guess it's time I upgraded for something more modern and stylish.' He shrugged and reached for the ignition key. 'Let's go home, angel.' 

'You can't! You only just got it back. I'll fix this somehow.' The angel promised, voice quivering.

'It's just a car. Don't fret it.' The demon waved dismissively.

'No, but you had it since it was new.' The angel nodded forcefully. He found that he too dreaded to lose the Bentley. 'You've been faithful to it for nearly a century.'

'Don't put it like that.' Crowley scrunched his face up in a troubled frown.

'And besides…'

Besides he had memories in this Bentley too. He let his mind wonder to those moments. They were an angel and a demon, they weren't always on the same page, sometimes it was a completely different chapter even. And that was fine. It meant that he could refine his moral arguments by pitting them against the demon's. In a job, where he was only allowed to be blindly obedient it felt good to vent at the demon, work through some of his… Well, not doubts per se. God forbid. But no matter how much they bickered or fought, what was the nature or intensity of their argument, Crowley would eventually conclude with "_Lift home?" _\- sometimes graciously, sometimes angrily or smugly - and the world would be a good place to be again. 

'Maybe if I just stayed away for a while? Let your demonic influences undo the damage?' He suggested, wrecking his brain for the slightest spark of inspiration.

'Don't be ridiculous.' Crowley waved dismissively. 

'But I shall regret if you grew to detest me for ruining your car.'

'You are not going to lose me over a piece of machinery. Anyway, I can't stay mad at you. It's my kind, who are unforgivable.' The demon shrugged, looking thoughtful for a moment. 'I mean no wonder your influence changed my car. Even I can clearly feel it and I am attuned only to the sinful. Half of the time when you are around I find myself itching to do something good.'

'Why, I'll be damned if I knew.' The angel muttered, surprised by the aftertaste of bitterness in his voice. It's just that secretly he had hoped that the small acts of kindness, the little demonic miracles had a different meaning.

'S'true.' Crowley shrugged. 'It's so fundamentally you, to improve everything around you, to make it lovelier with your mere presence.' Growled the demon in the manner of someone who was supposed to disapprove, but very clearly didn't. 

Aziraphale drew a shaky breath. The demon's words made his chest feel strangely tight, unfit to contain his rapidly fluttering heart. 

'Oh, it really is me, isn't it?' He whined, shaking his head, as the reality of the situation dawned on him. 

'Who else would it be?'

'It could have been you. You spend more time with the Bentley and I seem to remember that your side dabbles in love, too.' Pleaded Aziraphale. There was an idea, forming at the back of the angel's head, a desperate clutch at a last straw really, but a plan nevertheless.

'In lust and the forbidden stuff that's all.' Crowley replied then gestured at the dashboard. 'Not the kind of thing that would inspire this fierce, deep devotion.'

'People worship the devil too.' The conversation was getting derailed as Aziraphale tried to stall, simultaneously dreading and desiring what was to come with all his angelic fibers. 

'Worship. Not love.' Crowley pointed out, following the discussion's ebb and flow, enjoying a good debate as much as the angel. 

'That's just semantics.' 

'The devil is in the details. I mean,' He whipped his glasses off, producing his best, crooked, succubus half smile. 'can you imagine someone showering _ me _ with all this love and affection?'

Aziraphale felt himself blushing. There wasn't going to be a more perfect moment for what he was about to do. He leaned across the gearbox, smoothing his palm over the demons cheek and whispered.

'All too easily.' 

Then he kissed Crowley. It was a chaste little kiss but the way the demon grabbed the hand that rested on his cheek and clutched it desperately, was going to kill… inconveniently discorporate him. 

'Angel.' He whispered at his mouth as if he was drowning when Aziraphale eventually pulled away.

In the background the current lovesong stopped with a record scratch that had no place to be there. Aziraphale whipped his head around and stared at the radio. 

_ It must have been love, But it's over now, It must have been good, But I lost it somehow _it began to play and the angel dropped back on his seat, wringing his hands anxiously.

'Oh, Heavens, I made it worse.' 

'Wait. Was this your attempt to fix the Bentley?' Crowley demanded. He forced himself to relax and failed appallingly. 

'Well, I thought that maybe if I showed that it was… what is that idiom with barking at the wrong tree?'

'Barking up at the wrong tree.'

'Yes, I thought if it'd seen that, then the whole thing would just stop.' 

The demon's expression suddenly clouded.

'Let's just get back home.' He said darkly, voice so bitter it could have soured milk.

Crowley turned the key. The engine coughed and stuttered but didn't start. The lovesick ballads grew louder over the speakers.

'Bloody hell.' Crowley cursed.

At that very moment, somebody tore the Bentley's back door open. 

'Thank God you are still here.' Madam Tracy panted, while she lowered Anathema on the backseat. 

'You might want to hold back on the praises.' Growled Crowley.

'Anathema's water broke.' she explained as she got in herself. 'So be a love and drive us to the hospital, dear.' 

'Now, that might prove to be a bit of a problem.' Crowley began to explain.

'The Bentley wouldn't start.' Added Aziraphale.

'Whatever have you done to it?' The clairvoyant glared at Crowley.

'It was me, Madam Tracy.' Aziraphale hurried to the rescue. 'It's all because I kissed Crowley.'

Even the rather preoccupied Anathema perked up upon hearing this.

'You did what?'

'I was trying to make a point.' Blabbered the angel.

Madam Tracey squealed in delight. 'Oh, this was a long way coming wasn't it?'

She turned, confidingly, to the demon, pushing her beaming face in the space between the front seats.

'Oh you should have felt the palpitations he gave me when he saw you march in on the Airbase. Nearly finished my poor ticker off.'

'Wait, what?' Crowley spluttered.

'Madam Tracey…' the panicked angel tried to interrupt, but the medium seemed too relieved to unburden herself.

'It made me all...' She made a suggestive facial gesture. 'well all _ tingly _ inside.' 

The point is, Madam Tracy,' Aziraphale talked over her, anguished. 'that we can't start the Bentley, because I broke its heart.'

'It doesn't have a heart. It has a 4.6 liter inline six engine.' Explained Crowley, syllabising. 'And don't try to change the topic!'

He gestured first at himself then at Aziraphale.

'How long has _ this_' he demanded 'been going on?'

Aziraphale looked for a minute as if he seriously contemplated jumping out of the car, hand hovering over his seatbelt. Then he shrugged with a devil may care attitude and took a deep breath before he announced. 

'Well I came to terms with it around the nineteen forties, but I first developed feelings for you in the Garden, when you said that I couldn't do the wrong thing.' Suddenly, he was blushing. 'Maybe even a bit before. That robe and the long hair...' his voice trailed off.

'And for six thousand years you haven't thought of saying anything to me?' Crowley asked, making a mental note of the comment about the robe. 

'I didn't want to burden you with it. I was having enough trouble hiding the fact myself. I felt so transparent at times! I was crippled with fear that Heaven should find out. You'll be amazed at the kind of things they could do to you, for making an angel fall in love with you.'

_ 'Love_?' Crowley emitted a strangled cry.

'And at first sight!' Madam Tracy crooned.

On the backseat, Anathema moaned in pain.

'Wait a minute, are we talking romantic love or the "_have love and reverence for all living things" _kind of love?' Crowley demanded to know.

'Why, I would hardly have spent six thousand years agonising over the divine kind, would I?' Aziraphale chuckled without mirth.

'Can you just give me a straightforward _ goddamn _ answer for once?' Crowley grumbled, massaging his forehead. 'Please?'

'Romantic.' Aziraphale admitted in a small voice.

'Listen, 'Anathema whispered through her gritted teeth. 'there is clearly a lot to unwrap between you two and I don't mean to be an inconvenience but _ I am giving birth here! _'

'Ah well, while you are going into labour you are not technically giving birth yet...' Aziraphale began to explain with angelic patience. Fortunately Crowley shut him up before Anathema would claw his eyes out.

'She is right, angel, we better get a wiggle on.' _ Wiggle on? _ Evidently, as a result of the strain of the events he was going slightly insane.

'But whatever shall we do about the Bentley?' Madam Tracey inquired.

And for the first time in six thousand years, with a sudden clarity of mind nobody (including himself) knew he possessed, the demon Crowley chose to do the logical thing.

'Nothing. We get a taxi.' He whipped his phone out and blurted in the mouthpiece. 'Call the cab company.'

'Calling the cab company.' Came the mechanic female voice over the Blaupunkt system. But they didn't get a dial tone. 

'There is no service.' 

'Anthony Crowley!' Scolded the angel.

'It's not my fault!' The demon defended himself, vehemently. He buried his head in the steering wheel. 'You kissed me. I felt so blessed. I had to do _ something_!'

'I'll go and get Mr. Shadwell to phone them on the landline.' Madam Tracey suggested pragmatically. She shuffled to the door and got out, putting the door in gently, as if not to upset Anathema, who propped her legs up on the seat and employed her breathing techniques.

'You are doing really well, my darling.' Aziraphale encouraged her, turning on his seat.

Crowley began to pummel the steering wheel with his fists.

'This is not about you anymore, you stupid, selfish car, so start working.' 

'Crowley,' Aziraphale lay his hand on the demon's shoulder. 'hush for a minute.' 

Above the general ruckus of the latest lovesick ballad the Bentley elected to play, they could make out the faint noise of a flustered female voice, uttering broken English phrases, with a Japanese accent.

'Newt.' Whispered Anathema, exhausted from the pain.

Soon enough the Wasabi rolled in front of the drive - unfortunately, it was towed by another car, joint to its bumper by a cable.

'Oh, that bloody pile of scrap metal.' Growled Anathema.

But the Wasabi's reception wasn't entirely unfavourable. All four of the Bentley's doors suddenly flew open. Crowley realised that this was the car's equivalent of a slack jawed stare. Over the radio _ "I'm in love with my car" _from Queen began to play. 

Crowley looked at the Bentley. Then at Wasabi. Then back at shining example of the british car making. Then at the deepest shame of the Japanese vehicle industry. 

'Really? This is what does it for you?' He mumbled in disbelief, then shrugged. 'Well, whatever toots your horn.' 

Leaning into the speedometer he began to whisper.

'Now let's make a deal. If you take us to the hospital now, I'll bring you over every week to see the Wasabi. How does that sound? You get to impress your chariot of orient with your heroic deeds and get to meet your front wheel drive beau again. And with time, who knows, you might even get to take it for a ride… It doesn't get much better than that.' 

The engine revved up keenly in response and the doors flew shut. Lowering the window he shouted at Newt, who just unfolded himself from the Wasabi.

'Anathema's water broke! We need to take her to the hospital, let's go!'

The positively green looking expectant father threw himself on the seat next to his bethrotted.

The Bentley flew off the drive with speed as if its hull was covered in flames.

*

Hours have passed with Aziraphale firmly planted on a weirdly shaped plastic chair and Crowley tirelessly pacing the length of the hall in front of the delivery room. Madam Tracy and Mr Shadwell arrived a bit belatedly, in the cab they hailed originally for Anathema. Now the former was at the buffet and the latter happily snored away next to Aziraphale, who watched the demon's nervous prancing like a spectator at Wimbledon.

'There is no need to get agitated. Everything is well.' He commented, fondly.

'I am not agitated. You are a bloody healer. If something goes pear shaped, you'll simply interfere. I am, in fact, pissed.'

'Whatever is bothering you?'

'How can you ask me that?'

'Ah, so it's about our little… issue.'

'No, it's the situation in the Middle East. The stock market. My overdue library items.' Crowley's angry voice was full of sarcasm. 'Of course it's _ that_.'

'Hardly something worth getting so worked up about.' 

'Why didn't you tell me? When it _ was _ safe to do so.' 

'Well, it did not seem to bare much significance.' 

'It does for me.'

'A very clever man once said to me that you don't have to test everything to destruction.'

'Did you really not see a scenario where this wouldn't end bitterly for you?'

'I didn't think…' The words nearly drowned in the angel's constricted throat, but he forced himself to finish the sentence. 'I can't even begin to hope that you could love me.'

'Because I am a demon. Lacking what it takes to reciprocate.' Crowley suggested stiffly.

'No!' The angel cried out. 

'Then why?'

'Now, we don't have an awful lot in common, do we?' Sighed Aziraphale in anguish.

'We are both of angel stock.' Crowley pointed out.

'And that's about it.' Aziraphale burst out angrily as if it was all Crowley's fault. 'You are a slender beauty, as cool as it gets, always on to the next new thing.'

Crowley was a bit surprised to learn than the angel thought him to be cool. He was certainly trying to be the kind of human that people perceive as suave. But deep down he often agonised that he just couldn't quite pull it off.

Meanwhile the angel gestured over himself.

'And me? I'm… I-I am soft. I wore exactly one coat since the eighteen hundreds as that's the only one that flatters me. I learned precisely one dance in my lifetime and it went out of fashion just when I got the hang of it. And the most interesting thing about me, I'm afraid, is you.' 

Aziraphale buried his face in his palms.

'What are you talking about, angel? You are the single most incredible motherfucker I've ever met and I've known a bunch of crazy bastards in my days.' Exclaimed Crowley and he tore his glasses off. He began to pace up and down again and gestured at Aziraphale from time to time with the temples. 'You never killed anything yet you were ready to take on Satan with a single flaming sword. You can follow certain rules by the letter but lie through your teeth to your bosses all the same. You are simultaneously the kindest person and the biggest bitch I've ever met.' 

'Language, dear.' Tutted the angel.

'See?!' He stopped, dead in his tracks, but continued to thump his right leg nervously. He folded his hands, thrusting his wrists under his arms. 'I just can't stop turning it over in my head. What does this all mean? For us? For all the times when we had lunches, met at parks? All that drinking in the bookshop. All the while you were… you were...'

'I was fortunate.' Aziraphale shrugged with nonchalance. 'Blessed even. I had you. I mean I didn't _ have _ you, but still. Your friendship meant the world to me.'

'Yet while I am at your ineffable mercy, where you get to see the contents of my DVR, you are to know the fact that I talk to my plants and have a soft spot children _ I _have to learn things through the medium of an aging gossip of a-of a medium!' Crowley frowned, confused, at his own choice of words.

'It's different.' 

'How so?'

'This is not an endearing little quirk we are talking about! We are an angel. And a demon. We are hereditary enemies. It's not natural.'

'We are occult beings. Hardly anything is going to be natural about us.'

'You are occult. I am ethereal.' 

'Oh I see. You are ashamed to find yourself in love with someone not "_holier than thou". _

'For the last time, Crowley dear, no! How would I be? It's just that you could have been. Disgusted by me, that is.'

'Well' Crowley grunted, softly. 'that would be pretty bleeding hypocritical of me.' 

'Crowley.' Whispered Aziraphale, looking sharply up.

Just that moment Shadwell shuddered, then emitted a yawn. Then he croaked, coughed and sniffed trying all the pipes like a foul smelling church organ. 

'Now, ye laddies' he announced, staring at them with all the superior strictness he could muster. 'I'll go out to smoke me tobacco. I want ye two to have eloped by the time I'm back, ye ken?'

And with that he shuffled away, stretching and scratching as he went. 

Aziraphale just sat there, mortified, feeling a blush creeping up towards his cheeks from behind his collar. Crowley stood, studying his toes, clad in a snakeskin boot. He opened his mouth to say something, but the doors of the delivery room flung open to reveal an ashen looking, fundamentally shaken, but happily beaming Newton. 

'I-it's a girl.' He stammered. 

*

It was late at night when they left the hospital. They were both tired but restless and in a mood to celebrate. They were going to be godfathers, after all. They could not have been more pleased.

'Shall we do the Ritz?' Aziraphale suggested, but catching Crowley's expression he nodded, understanding.

'You are in the mood for alcohol.'

'Quite extraordinary amounts of it.' Insisted Crowley.

They drove back to Soho in companionable silence. But as Crowley pulled in front of the bookshop the familiar surroundings, with the excitement of the night wearing off, reminded them that they were having a rather significant conversation earlier. Yet now, the only sound between them was the _ ping, ping _ of the Bentley's cooling engine. 

'I seem to remember that I have some antique wine lying about.' Stammered Aziraphale. 'Shall we?' 

He threw the door open without waiting for an answer and very nearly missed Crowley's small comment.

'You never said it.' The demon blurted.

'I'm afraid I'm not following you, Crowley.' 

'I'm mean it was implied' The demon blabbered on. 'but you never _ really _ said those words.' 

'Ah, right. Those three very special words. Right you are.' The angel was drumming with his fingers nervously on his knees. 'You have no idea how close I was to blurting it out a couple times. How desperately I wanted to confess on that night, in Soho, in 1967. How I wanted to tell you that you were going to destroy not one but two.'

Aziraphale leaned forward and put the door softly in again, shutting out the chill night and the world. 

'Yet you never did.' Crowley sighed. 

'I was handing you a suicide pill. Of course I didn't.' He gulped. 

Silence had befallen them. Aziraphale was wrestling with himself. He sighed, starting to worry his fingers.

'You know, if you sensed love like I do, I wouldn't have stood a chance.' He chuckled nervously.

'But I can't.' Crowley pointed it out.

That was too true. And if there was any love, Aziraphale could not sense it on Crowley. The fact made him hesitate. 

'You… you never said it either.' Aziraphale mumbled, capitulating.

Crowley closed his eyes. When he answered his voice was painfully small.

'I can't. It's a leap of faith.' He pleaded. 'I just can't.'

Aziraphale felt an icy pit opening in his stomach and tried to pretend it wasn't happening. The demon looked torn apart, so he reached hesitantly out.

'That's all right, my dear boy. Nothing has to change if we don't want it to. I was perfectly content as I was.' He patted Crowley's hand, as it lay on the handbrake, a feather light touch. 'I still love you.' 

Before he even had the chance to finish the last syllable, Crowley leaned over and pressed their lips together. 

It seemed that this was the demon's way of confessing. And it was all right with Aziraphale. But just as he melted in the kiss, Crowley pulled slightly away. 

'I love you too, angel.' 

It was Aziraphale's turn to pull him hungrily for another kiss. In the background, the radio came on with a soft click and _ Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy _began to play. Aziraphale smiled against Crowley's lips and the demon snorted.

'I'll go and find that wine.' Whispered the angel. 

He got out and went to open the bookshop, dropping the keys about three times as his fingers were still shaking. 

Crowley, in the meantime, took a shaky breath, the turned to the Bentley. 

'You are a good car.' He said, patting the dashboard affectionately.

Then he followed his angel inside. 

And Bentley continued to serenade them through the night.


End file.
